


Phantoms

by iwasanartist



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Disability, F/M, Friendship, Post-Episode: s05e12 The Real Deal, Romance, Season/Series 05, loss of limb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/pseuds/iwasanartist
Summary: Stuck in the lighthouse until things calm down, Coulson and May make the most of their time together.  And when a malfunction brings up an old scar, May is more than happy to help him through it. But he's not the only one who could use a hand.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been 10 days since they put a Band-Aid on the interdimensional rift. They’d spent that time laying low, sticking to the lighthouse while the dust settled topside. There was of course work to be done, but there was also plenty of rest and relaxation. They’d all earned it, after all.

At first, Coulson and May spent their free time tangled up in bedsheets, enjoying one another, exploring each other and finding answers to all the could-have-beens they’d spent years putting off. It was exhilarating, and it was exhausting, and soon they found themselves just as happy to lie with each other, listening to the sounds of the lighthouse, as they were to be in the throes of passion.

It was a night like that when Coulson crawled into bed, sliding easily under the covers and wrapping one arm around May. In the other hand he held an old paperback Deke had picked up along with their other supplies. She leaned into him, her eyes following along on the page. Even in silent reading, they were tuned to one another. 

And then Coulson twitched.

The book jumped, almost spilling from his hand as he winced and rubbed at his forearm. May sat up straighter and plucked the book away, pulling harder than she would have thought necessary as his fingers clutched it tightly.

“Phil?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“This thing,” he said, gesturing at his robotic arm. “It’s been short - _ah!_ \- shorting out for a few days now. It’s all right, it’ll settle down in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Coulson took a few deep breaths and let the arm hang limply by his side.

“You should have Fitz take a look.”

“Yeah, I’m going to. I just...they’re both working so hard...I wanted them to have a little more time in the honeymoon phase before throwing more things at them.”

May nodded her head and set the book down on the bedside table. To the untrained eye, Coulson might have looked fine. Maybe a little tired. But she zeroed in on the even steady breaths that shook only just a little at the end, the clenching of his jaw and just the faintest crinkling at his eyes.

“Maybe you should take it off,” she said. She had barely lifted her hand -- let alone reached across him -- when he shifted his body almost imperceptibly, bringing the shoulder of his good arm forward maybe a centimeter between them as he twisted away on the other side, like he was hiding it from her. She let her arm settle back down onto the bedding and watched his subtle movements reverse until he was leaning flat against the headboard again. 

“You know, Phil, I don’t mind,” she said softly.

“I do.” Keeping his body still, he turned his head slightly to look at her and for the first time she saw not their fearless leader or her best friend and bedmate but a boy fighting so hard to quash a fear that had lingered, unexamined for years.

“Why?”

“Because…” Coulson swallowed and waved his good arm across his body, unable to find the words that seemed so obvious and instead dropping his hand back down with a slap against his thigh.

“I’ve seen you trade out the-”

“It’s different,” he said. “Trading out is different from taking off. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right,” May said. “I don’t understand. But here’s what I know-” she reached out, grabbing the finger he’d raised in objection and lowering his hand back down between them, gently running her thumb across his knuckles as she did so. “We’ve got a rough road ahead of us,” she continued. “A rough road. And if Simmons can’t find a cure, I don’t know how much time we have. And to see you in pain for any of it when you don’t need to be? It kills me.”

He looked at her again with his big blue eyes betraying phantoms of the grief he’d never allowed himself to feel. It was heartbreaking. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. He leaned into her, so close that she could feel his lashes flutter against her cheek as he closed his eyes and gave a nod. He reached his arm across his body and tugged at the mechanical one, twisting here and there until it separated a few inches below his elbow. It was strange. When he wore it, it seemed like it was just his arm, with a metal cuff if he had his sleeves rolled up. But here, now, lying on the mattress, it couldn’t have looked more unnatural. He handed it to her; it’s heft surprising as she placed it on the bedside table next to the forgotten novel. When she turned back to him, he was fiddling with a secondary piece of metal that capped what was left of his forearm and was the main power source for the prosthetic. With a little work, it came off and he was able to toss the lighter half of the device onto his own table.

May didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t look away. The skin was paler than the rest of his arm and smoother than she expected, save for small indentations where the cap pressed sensors against his flesh that helped him gauge weight and pressure but couldn’t simulate the sense of touch he’d lost.

Coulson took a sharp breath and let it out with a shake.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice as soft a whisper. May cocked her head at him.

“Why?” 

Coulson shook his head, a self-deprecating smile half dying on his lips as he leaned back and gestured at his face. His eyes shone bright with tears, and when he blinked, several slipped down his cheeks. A choked sob that could have been a half-hearted laugh if it weren’t for the quiver filled the air between them. “Not exactly the hero you were expecting.”

“Phil.” She moved back toward him, kissed one cheek and wiped tears from other before leaning her forehead against his temple. His good arm bent at the elbow, until his hand landed on her sleeve, gripping the fabric tightly as his head bowed against her shoulder. “I don’t love you because you’re Mr. No Feelings Stoic Man,” she whispered. “You’ve got a big heart, and you feel so much, and…God, Phil. I love you just…” she stopped short, unable to finish the sentence. A moment passed and she could feel Coulson’s smile against her neck as his grip on her sleeve loosened. 

“You’re trying really hard not to say ‘just the way you are,’ aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Coulson burst into laughter and threw his head back as his whole body relaxed.

“I heard it as I was saying it and just couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, good. Because that’s not a song I need in my head for the next three days.”

May couldn't help but smile with him. As the laughter faded and she snuggled up next to him, he wrapped his arm around her.

"Did you mean it?" he asked finally. 

“What?”

"You love me?" 

Her brow crinkled as she looked up at him. “You know I do.” 

Coulson closed his eyes as the words washed over him. She could almost see them settling into his soul, throwing light on his darkness. He had to know, right? They couldn’t have been through everything they’d been through without him knowing how she felt.

Silently she rose up, tossed a leg over his and settled into his lap. His eyes were still closed when she pressed her lips to his forehead, stroked her fingers through his hair and behind his ears before wrapping him in her arms.

“I love you,” whispered as she planted a slow trail of kisses across his face.

One thing she’d learned in their time together was that Phil Coulson was a slow, deliberate lover, unlike any she’d had before. Most men who found their way into her bed expected The Cavalry -- fiery passion that burned bright and hot. And that’s exactly what they got. A fast fuck between faster fights for their lives. A few had tried to tame her, and they were just as fun to knock down as anyone.

Phil was different.

Sure, after the rift was patched, FitzSimmons was married and Daisy convinced Mike Peterson of the hilarity in a cyborg dancing The Robot at the reception, May and Coulson retreated to her room, entirely unable to keep their hands off each other as they fell into bed, unleashing years of tension in an explosive frenzy that left them both gasping for breath and desperate for more.

But as the rush faded and their walls came down, the mood shifted. Frantic kisses turned long as they curled around each other. His hands and mouth explored her body inch by agonizing inch. And he was attentive. She’d lost count of how many times he’d brought her to the edge, fingers inside, tongue circling, only to dip away, breathing hot breath across her skin as he kissed his way to her face. 

She’d tried to flip him onto his back once, but he left one hand firm on her shoulder and gave an impish smile as he nuzzled against her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed with anticipation as his hand traveled back down her body, dancing over her thigh and settling again between her legs, using her own slick to send waves of pleasure radiating with every stroke of his thumb until she came, arching her back amid of sea of swears and moans.

 _“Get inside me...”_ The words were slurred and barely above a whisper but he heard and obliged and together they were perfect.

Oh, yes. She loved him, and she was going to make sure he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Joel - Just the Way You Are: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJWM5FmZyqU


	2. Chapter 2

_“I love you.”_

May’s lips were soft against his skin, her kisses slow and gentle. Usually that was Phil’s department. A serene yin to her voracious yang. He could tell it drove her nuts sometimes, and honestly that was part of the turn on. 

He couldn’t help it. They’d finally taken the leap, and no moment with her was long enough. He wanted to savor it. Her taste. Her scent. The feel of her body warm against his. Sometimes he thought if he could memorize her face as her fists gripped the sheets and she bucked against his hand, he’d never need to see anything else again. 

But this time, it was her.

Her hands swept over him, sliding down his back and lifting his shirt over his head. She laid a hand over his heart, her thumb brushing against the jagged scar before retreating. Her shirt was next, and the way she moved, ever so smooth and graceful stirred something in him. He leaned forward, catching her lips with his in a kiss that caught her, for once, entirely off guard. He moved lower, to that spot on her neck, right near the clavicle, that never failed to make shiver and gasp in ecstasy.

She let out an easy, short laugh before bringing her hands up and pushing on his shoulders until his back met the headboard. She rose up on her knees, leaning over him and kissed him once before sliding off the bed. She took her time walking to the door and turning the lock. She stripped on the way back and he couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up and down her frame, drinking her in. He could watch her all day.

When she returned, she grabbed his waistband and tugged, undressing him with a sensuality that didn’t even seem possible. She sat on the edge of the bed, one hand reaching over him and pressed into the mattress, trapping him as her kisses wandered slowly down his neck and across his chest. Her tongue dipped once into his navel before she took him in her mouth. Not a lot. Just enough to leave him hard and slick and desperate before she crawled over him, settling on her side of the bed. 

He draped his arm around her, brushing against her skin as she stroked him. Her other arm snaked behind his back, fingers tickling his rib cage for pure cruelty's sake before returning to his shoulder, squeezing at tight muscles, spidering downward and resting on his forearm. She drew tiny, tingling circles on a part of his arm that nobody but Fitz had touched -- under much different circumstances -- in years. Even he was surprised by the audible gasp as a jolt moved through him.

“Is this okay?” May asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Good.” She leaned further into his space. Her mouth pressed against him. The hand on his cock slid up and down in fluid motions, twisting just so at the head and base and the fingers on his arm now grasped at his skin, touching and rubbing until he could barely think.

“Do you want me?” she whispered.

“God, yes.”

“Good.” Once again, she tossed a leg over his and took his face in her hands. “Because I want you, Phil Coulson.” She kissed his lips and lowered herself onto him. Her hand cupped his elbow, raising his arm until she could kiss the flat spot. “I want every part of you, no matter how it comes.”

She leaned her cheek into the ridge of arm, guiding it across her lips, down her throat and over her breasts. He wrapped his good arm around her, fingers tangling in her hair as they held each other tightly. His other arm slid into the crook of her elbow, pressed against her bicep like it was always meant to be there. The sensation of her body on his sent an electricity coursing through him, but it wasn’t the lingering memory of a limb long gone or the tingling shock of mechanics.

This was different. This was everything good in the universe, and it burned through him hotter than the flames of the Ghost Rider. He could feel his whole body begin to tighten. Her face was buried in his neck, sucking and nibbling between breaths that made his eyes swim. One of her arms moved between them, trailing down his chest until she reached their hips. 

He couldn’t stop looking at her face as she touched herself while riding him. Her lips quivered, her eyes squeezed shut and her nostrils flared.

Their breaths were short and fast and heavy as they clung to each other, riding a wave of euphoria that seemed endless until she clenched three times around him with a strained moan and Phil’s world went white.

* * *

  


Coulson and May collapsed into bed breathless and spent.

“Wow,” Coulson said between gulps of air. He turned his head to look at her. “That may have been our best yet.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” May said. “That first night was pretty amazing.”

“Oh, yeah? Which time?” Coulson propped himself up on an elbow and gave a cheeky smile that May returned before rolling toward him so they were face to face.

“Every time with you.” She leaned over and kissed the upturned corner of his mouth. It was light and simple and perfect, and he didn’t know how they’d managed to go so many years without.

“I love you, Melinda.”

“I know.” She snuggled up against him, resting her head against his chest. “But the real question,” she continued, “is do you love me enough to wrestle Deke for the last orange juice?” Coulson frowned at her.

“You know there was a time you’d hand me my ass for even implying I might try to fight one of your fights for you.”

“Yeah, well. That was before you wore me out. Need to replenish.”

Coulson laughed and considered his options.

“Deke’s pretty scrappy, but I think I can take him. One orange juice, coming up.” He pushed the sheet aside and rolled out bed, landing in a crouch and gathering his clothes.

“Do you want this?” May asked, gesturing to his mechanical arm. His eyes settled on it and the secondary piece that had kept him from truly realizing just how much sensation remained in his limb.

“Nah,” he said as he rose to his feet and looked at his arm. “Nah, let it breathe a bit.”

“Okay.” She blinked as she sat up and stretched against the headboard.

“Unless,” Phil continued. He looked down at the clothes dangling from his hand. “I need to clean up and get dressed. It’ll take a little longer without, so…”

“Phil,” May interrupted. “It’s worth the wait.” He cocked his head in her direction.

“Me or the juice?”

“Both.”


	3. Chapter 3

Coulson stuck close to the wall as he walked to the kitchen, occasionally letting his shoulder bump into and ride along the concrete. It wasn’t much, but the missing few pounds from his arm was just enough to throw him slightly off kilter. He’d been without it before, of course, but that was usually while a big ol’ dose of adrenaline was coursing through his veins and trying to stay alive or escape a situation kept him on target.

As he neared the kitchen, he could hear the unmistakable sound of a fork being violently scraped across a plate and pounded on the edge of plastic container. Sure enough, when he reached the doorway he saw Mack, fork hanging out of his mouth as he’d switched from scooping mashed potatoes to banging the edge of plate onto another container while stubborn bite-sized pieces of meat refused to budge. He gave it one more whack, and all the pieces fell at once, some landing in the container, others bouncing onto the counter or floor.

“Damn it!” Mack growled under his breath. He went to slam the plate when Coulson stepped into the room.

“Easy big guy,” he said. Mack looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Coulson,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m stealthy like that.” Coulson pulled the refrigerator door open. His left arm was halfway to the juice when he remembered.

_Hold the door with your body; grab with the right._

Years later, he could still hear the voice of his occupational therapist trying to reteach him how to go about daily life one-handed.

“What’s up?” Coulson continued. _Set it down, get a glass, set it down._ “I know the food’s not great, but…”

“It’s Yo-Yo,” Mack said. “She’s…” he trailed off as Coulson unscrewed the cap of the juice, let it fall to the countertop and maneuvered the carton into a more graspable position. “Do you need a…”

“A hand?” Coulson said with a smile. “Yeah, but I got this.” 

“I didn’t mean...I just…”

“Mack,” Coulson interrupted as he gave the cap a toss across his body and watched it swish satisfyingly into to the trash. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.” He tossed the empty carton; it bounced once off the rim before disappearing into the bag. “How’s Yo-Yo?”

“Not eating,” Mack said as he turned his attention back the leftovers, snapping on lids and sweeping up the bits that had fallen to the floor. “Not talking. I think she’d be just as happy to die in that hospital bed as anything else.”

“Give her time,” Coulson said. “She suffered a massive trauma; it’s going to take some time to bounce back.”

“Yeah. It’s just...she seems worse than she did.”

“It’s amazing how normal you can seem when you fill yourself up on denial, and when that balloon bursts...” Coulson’s words trailed off before he continued. “But it’s Yo-Yo. She’ll find her way.”

Mack closed his eyes and nodded before gathering up the containers and squeezing past Coulson to the fridge.

“Yeah,” he said, almost disbelievingly. With the leftovers packed away he gave Coulson a look. “So, what’s going on here?” he said, motioning to Coulson’s left arm.

“The hand’s shorting out. It’s not pleasant,” Coulson said. “I’ll have Fitz take a look when locking down an interdimensional rift to Cape Fear isn’t eating up the priority list.” Coulson was almost out the door when Mack spoke next.

“I could take a look at it if you want,” Mack said. “I’m not as science-y as Fitz or Simmons, but I know my way around mechanics. Could just be a wire needs swapped.”

“Yeah,” Coulson said. “Yeah, maybe.” He raised his glass in goodbye and as headed back to May’s room, he had the sneaking suspicion that Mack was interested in a little more than bad wires when it came to the inner workings of his prosthetic limb. 

When he reached their door, he tucked the glass in the crook of his arm, pressed against his body, and gave a gentle rap on the metal before pushing the door open. 

“Special delivery.”

“Oh, thank god,” May said. “I was beginning to think you actually had to fight Deke over it.” Coulson handed her the glass and watched as she took three long gulps. She sighed as she brought the glass back down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Not Deke,” Coulson said. “Just talking to Mack.”

“Oh?” She tipped the glass in his direction, offering the last swallow.

“Yeah, he wants to take a look at the arm,” he said. “See if its’ something he can fix.” Coulson drained the juice and set the glass on the nightstand.

“Is that so?”

“It’s what he says.” Coulson sat down on the edge of the bed, feet still on the floor when he felt her fingers rub across his back and shoulder blades. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Coulson closed his eyes at her touch. She could always tell when something wasn’t right.

“It’s Yo-Yo,” he said, twisting around to face May. “Mack says she isn’t doing so well.”

“That’s understandable. Have you talked to her?”

“No. No, not really,” Coulson said. “Simmons had her sedated for a while, and then with everything going on, I just...What would I even say her to that wouldn’t sound condescending?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” May reached out, gently lacing her fingers between his. “You always do.”

Coulson nodded. He sat with her for a moment, enjoying the feel of her skin and the warmth of her body. He sighed once, doing his best to collect his thoughts before pulling away and standing up.

“I didn’t mean right now,” May said. Coulson smiled and leaned down, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Weren’t you the one saying something about timeliness earlier?”

May closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his.

“Okay,” she said. “But I might be asleep when you get back.”

“Good,” Coulson said as he made for the door. “Keep you from getting to far ahead of me on that.” He nodded at the book with its tattered cover and yellowing pages.

“It’s a 1960s Western, you’re not missing much.”

“Fair enough,” Coulson said with a laugh as he pulled the door shut and started again down the hallway. He detoured back to the kitchen, rummaging in drawers and cabinets until he found a box of granola bars and stuffed one into his pocket.

When he reached what passed for a medical wing in the lighthouse bunker, the door to Yo-Yo’s room was cracked. He listened for a moment, making sure he wouldn’t interrupt anything, before tapping his knuckles on the door.

“Simmons, for the last time, I have enough pillows,” Yo-Yo called through the door. Coulson gave a push and stepped through.

“That’s good, because I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Coulson!” Yo-Yo looked at him with a smile. “What are you-” she stopped abruptly when he came into full view. Her eyes went straight to his stump and narrowed as her entire demeanor changed. “What? Is this Phase Two of Mack’s grand master plan? Send you in here to tell me how _‘oh we’re not that different’_? Because that’s bull, and you know it.”

“No plans that I know of,” Coulson said. “As for this,” he raised his arm slightly and paused, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s recently been brought to my attention that I might have some unresolved issues of my own to work through.”

“‘Recently brought to your attention’ huh,” Yo-Yo said, unable to keep a slight smile off her face. “May’s really whipping you into boyfriend shape, isn’t she?”

“Hmmm?” Coulson pulled a small rolling stool over and sat down, pulling himself closer to her. “I don’t kn-”

“Oh, come on, Coulson, everybody knows.”

“Everybody?”

“Daisy and Jemma are taking bets on if and when you’ll be the next two walking down the aisle.”

“Huh.” They lapsed into silence, eyes trailing the room, neither fully looking at the other. Nuptials with May weren’t exactly what he’d intended to come down and talk about but now that it was out there, he found it wasn’t a thought that disturbed him. The entire team knowing at least that they were together, if not doing it on the regular, on the other hand was enough to make his ears turn just a little pink.

“Fun as it is to watch you squirm,” Yo-Yo finally said, “what are you doing here?” 

Coulson cleared his throat and scooted the stool a little closer.

“I came to see how you were doing,” he said. 

“I’ve had better weeks.”

“I bet,” he replied. “Mack says you’re not eating.”

“What’s the point,” Yo-Yo snorted.

“Um...not dying, for one,” Coulson said.

“Oh, yes. Thirty, maybe forty more years of this?” Yo-Yo shook her head angrily at her stumps. “That’s absolutely a life worth living.”

“I know you’re hurting right now, but-”

“No, you don’t know!” she yelled. All the feelings she'd been holding inside burst out in a violent display. “You don’t know, and do you know why?! Because even when you’re running around without your fancy robot arm, you still have a hand! You can still do things! You don’t have to rely on May or Simmons or anyone else to feed you or to wipe your ass! You’re not useless!”

“Okay, half of that’s a fair point, but you’re not useless, Elena,” Coulson said. “And if you think there’s anyone on this base that wouldn’t rather feed you or clean up after you than spend a day without you, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

She opened her mouth, about to fire something off, but Coulson barrelled over her. “And if you don’t start eating, I’d bet everything I’ve got that Simmons is just going to put in a feeding tube.”

"I'd tear it out,” Yo-Yo spat back.

"Yeah?” Coulson crossed his arms across his body. “How're you gonna do that?"

"I'D FIND A WAY!"

"I've no doubt," Coulson answered quietly.He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing of her bed. "I just wish you'd apply that same fire and passion to living." She scrunched her brow at him and shook her head.

"From what I hear, you're one to talk."

“That’s different.”

“It’s no different. Did Mack tell you what we saw in the future? Did he tell you that I was there?”

“We were all there, Yo-Yo.”

“No, not…*this* me was there. No-arms me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. No-Arms Me was there, like I am right now. And she told me that trying to save you breaks the world and at some point in the future, I’m going to be captured by the Kree and for 70 years Kasius is going to torture me to death, bring me back and do it all over again until I’ve told him everything I know. So, maybe I die now and I don’t know anything to tell him later.”

“Well, maybe you’re in luck. I’ve been on borrowed time for the past five years. This is just the bill coming due, and I told Simmons and Daisy and May not to try to fight it.”

“And you really think any of them are going to listen to that and just sit here, watching you die?”

They were silent for a moment. Coulson reached his hand out and laid it softly on Yo-Yo’s shoulder.

“And you thought we were different.” He squeezed gently and Yo-Yo turned to her head to look at his hand. The fury slipped away with each breath.

“I can still feel them,” she said shakily.

“I know.”

“It’s like they’re on fire, burning from my fingertips all the way up.” Coulson nodded. “You get that too?”

“I little. I actually got a lot of cramps in the fingers and palm, and with nothing there to actually stretch out…”

Yo-Yo winced with him. “Does it get better?” she asked.

“It did for me. Most of the time. More or less.”

Yo-Yo nodded.

“Sometimes I forget they’re gone,” she said. “I’ll try to do something and just…” she shook her head at the nothingness her life had become. Coulson squeezed a little tighter and leaned in until his temple rested against hers.

“I promise you, we’ll figure something out,” he said quietly. “Once you’re healed up, we may have to go really old-school for a while, but I promise you won’t feel like this forever.”

She leaned against him and was about to speak when her stomach growled loudly. 

“God, I am so hungry,” Yo-Yo said as she leaned heavily back in bed.

“Lucky for you,” Coulson said as he reached into his pocket, “I come prepared.” He pulled out the granola bar and gave it a little shake in her direction. “And I’m happy to help.” Yo-Yo looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

“Coulson, how are you going to do anything with that when you only have one hand and I have none?”

He grinned at her as he held a corner of the package in one hand and shook.

“First,” he said, “we’re going to be some of the few people who praise the demons that only fill packages two-thirds of the way.” When the granola bar was all the way to one end, he laid the bar flat on his leg and lifted the flap on its back. “And then we're going to get creative.” With the back flap pinched between two fingers, he nipped the front of the package between his teeth, careful not to pierce to foil, and pulled until the adhesive ends gave. Holding the bar perpendicular against his leg, he pushed the package down, exposing the goods within.

“Ta-da,” he said with a final flourish as he presented the granola bar to her. Yo-Yo rolled her eyes at him but leaned forward to take a bite anyway. Coulson pushed more of the wrapper down as she chewed and then offered another. She downed the entire bar in three bites and leaned back into her pillow.

“That was so good, you don’t even know…”

“You know, if you’re still hungry, I saw Mack putting dinner in the fridge. I can go get it if you want.”

Yo-Yo snorted through her teeth again, only this time it was a happier sound.

“How pissed off would Mack be tomorrow if he thought somebody stole them?”

“Probably about as pissed as Fitz if someone ate the sandwich he’s got sitting in there.”

Yo-Yo stared at him wide-eyed, a barely contained grin threatening to spill off her face. It was one of the nicer sights Coulson had seen all week. He retreated to the kitchen, and when he returned, they shared a meal and just talked like they hadn’t done since...well...like they’d never really done before. In between bites, she asked him all kinds of questions and he answered as many as he could -- from his first days of recovery to his last days of rehab. She took a keen interest in prosthetics that had stood the test of time -- pinchers controlled through squeezing of the shoulders that had been around since the early 1900s.

“Crabby arms for a crabby lady,” she said with a smile. “That’d get me by for a while.”

When there was nothing left, Yo-Yo leaned back, her eyes drooping with tiredness. She yawned as Coulson collected the dishes.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Mmhm.” He flicked off a few of the larger lights until there was just a soft glow at the room’s edges.

“G’night” Yo-Yo said through another yawn. “Say hi to May for me.” Coulson couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay.” He was to the door and had almost pulled it shut behind him when she spoke again.

“Coulson.” 

“Yeah?” He popped his head back into the room. Yo-Yo was sitting up, looking at him fully and with intent.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Coulson nodded once. “Now get some rest.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Coulson left the door open a crack and stood in the hallway, listening as she shifted in bed, got comfortable and her breaths became deep and steady in sleep. By the time Coulson made it back to May’s room -- their room, he thought he should get used to saying -- he too was feeling the effects of a full stomach and late hour.

He tried not to wake May as he crawled into bed, but that was a fruitless endeavor. 

“Did you talk to Yo-Yo?” her voice was still thick with sleep as he pulled the blankets up.

“Yeah, she says hi.”

“Hmm. She gonna be okay?”

“I think so.”

“Okay.” May rolled over until her hands met his chest and one leg kicked up over his.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you smell like Italian meat?”

“You’re dreaming, Melinda. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

May snuggled up against him and her breaths slowly became punctuated with tiny snores. And as Coulson drifted off to sleep with her, he realized that that moment, even as they were locked in a bunker beneath a lighthouse, with all their worlds irrevocably changed and a flickering portal to a fear dimension a few floors down, he was still happy.

* * *

“I don’t understand! Who eats _half_ a sandwich?! Fitz yelled. The next day they’d all gathered in Yo-Yo’s room to talk strategy. Even though she wasn’t up for field work, it felt wrong keeping her out of the loop. Of course, right now “the loop” was Fitz’s ranting and raving.

“Was it you?” he jabbed a finger at Deke.

“Hey man, don’t look at me. I don’t even know what an Italian sandwich is-”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘I’m from an apocalyptic hellscape future and don’t know what _food_ is” nonsense-”

“Relax, Fitz, it’s just a sandwich,” Daisy said.

“It’s not just a sandwich!” Fitz yelled and as he went on to describe the myriad ingredients that only Simmons can layer properly, Coulson and Yo-Yo couldn’t quite hold back their conspiratorial grins. Mack caught their expressions and his eyes went wide as he tried not to laugh. He covered with a cough.

“Hey, Turbo,” he said. “Maybe it was a phantom from the fear dimension and you’re lucky it left you half.”

Fitz stopped in his tracks and brought a finger to his lips in thought. 

“That could...You,” he pointed to Deke. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the lab. Right now, we’re going to figure this portal thing out.” He stormed out of the room, snapping his fingers as he went. “Let’s go, Deke!”

“Right! Yeah, on the way!” Deke said as he bounded out of the room, bizarrely happy to be spending time alone in close quarters with a grumpy Fitz. But as Coulson stood there and watched them go -- May on one side of him, clandestinely wrapping a pinky around his, and Yo-Yo on the other finally looking like she found some measure of peace -- he knew that it was true. He wasn’t just with his team. He wasn’t just with his friends. He was with his family.

And even as a lingering touch of heartburn clutched at his chest, he regretted nothing.


	4. DELETED SCENE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter three took longer than the rest to be published because apparently I had to write this scene first, only to realize it killed all the momentum and didn't really leave Coulson in the headspace I wanted him. I still like it, though, and thought others might, too.

Coulson closed the bathroom door and set his clothes down on the small counter before wetting a washcloth. Already he’d caught himself trying to use a hand that wasn’t there and felt a touch off balance from the missing weight. But, as he squeezed the wet cloth, gave it toss and squeezed again, the memories started to return.

He’d spent weeks at occupational therapy after his injury. It had been a frustrating experience learning new ways to do everything from buttering bread to brushing his teeth and getting dressed, and if anybody noticed his gradual shift away from his typical suits and ties, they didn’t say anything.

He’d been given options. Shirts that looked normal but hid velcro behind the unnecessary buttons. Ties with elastic backs that always stayed knotted, that sort of thing. He’d shunned them then, and if he’d taken the time, he might have realized it was pride and vanity that kept him from adapting in the most efficient ways.

But when Fitz started working on hand prototypes, it all seemed a moot point. It couldn’t give him back everything he’d lost, but it was close enough. And all the bells and whistles didn’t hurt. And yet, those old lessons came back like they were yesterday as he shimmied into his clothes and gave himself a final look in the mirror. His eyes were drawn to the stump sticking out of his left sleeve and for the first time he didn’t see it as something to be feared or hated or embarrassed by. It was a part of him. Inconvenient, sometimes, sure. But not as insurmountable as it once felt.

Of course Coulson knew it wouldn’t be long before Fitz fixed his mechanical arm and they were back to trying to save the world. But for now, as he stepped out of the bathroom and gave May a smile as she curled around his pillow, slowly turning the pages of their book, he realized he’d take the inconvenience if it meant not have the weight of the world on his shoulder for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> Billy Joel - Just the Way You Are: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJWM5FmZyqU


End file.
